Retribution
by satta
Summary: A standalone scene following TFA that deals mostly with Kylo Ren's thoughts.


A/N: I don't own Star Wars; Lucasfilm and Disney do.

Retribution

By satta

The new helmet felt alien and strange, brushing against the fresh scar on his right cheek. It itched again. He resisted the urge to remove the helmet and touch his face, hurrying out of his quarters. He wouldn't give in; he was stronger than that.

The gash had barely started healing, pulling the skin on his neck and chin, smarting every time Ren spoke or moved his head. Hidden from the prying eyes behind his mask, only few knew the extend of his damage. To his annoyance, Hux was one of them. Ren despised the very fact that it was General Hux who had found him in the forest and brought to Supreme Leader in his weakened and damaged state. Hux realized not to say anything afterwards, but it was enough that he knew, that he had witnessed Ren's fault: Dark Side felt knew no faults, and yet Kylo Ren had failed.

No, General didn't need to say anything. His disdainful posture spoke volumes to Ren.

In the privacy of his thoughts, Kylo Ren clung to the ache of the burning red scar with all his might. He had declined of the painkillers, denied the medics to treat it more than needed to; he wanted it to – _no!_... needed it to it to scar. It was her mark on him, a reminded he would never forget. It fed his anger. It fed his power and made him stronger.

There could be no weaknesses in the Dark Side.

He stopped, glancing out of the window, ignoring the painful pull on his neck, to the darkness that surrounded the star destroyer.

Even now, weeks afterwards, walking felt like a strain. To add insult to injury, his side, where the Wookie had hit him with his crossbow, ached constantly. Ren pushed aside a distant memory – _eons ago, it feels now_ – of the same Wookie using the same weapon, but only this time to protect him. The gash would take a long time to heal fully, the medics had told him. That bothered him a little. He burned to acquire the skills Supreme Leader had started teaching him, and his wounds slowed down his progress.

Kylo Ren placed his hand on the handrail and ignored the pain, the pang in his muscles: his thighs and the right shoulder, where _she_ had hit him _;_ and the left one that traitorous trooper had slashed with the Skywalker saber.

 _My rightful birthright. My lightsaber!_

The anger flared again and momentarily concealed the sting before he brushed his annoyance aside: The trooper's ability to wield the weapon had been more a fluke than anything else. Had the Wookie not been able to hit Ren on that bridge; had Kylo Ren deflected the shot with the Force… Uninvited, an image appeared in front of his eyes: An aging face, the hard lines around the mouth softened, saddened; and a wisp of a touch against his chin, caressing him like when he was a boy. Then, a sense of utter loneliness when he realized that his fath…

 _…No! I will not think of that!_

Leather of his gloves creaked as Ren´s grip tightened on the metallic handrail, forcing the treacherous memories away.

The traitor, FN-2187, was not worthy of his attention. Force knew Captain Phasma was hell-bent on catching and bringing him First Order's justice. Captain could be a formidable adversary and her animosity with the trooper was now personal. She would take care of the renegade trooper. The plans were already in place; it was just a matter of time until the First Order had destroyed the remnants of the Resistance and gained control of the Galaxy.

He could almost taste the sweetness of revenge on his tongue.

Leia Organa had been a fool to ally herself with those weaklings. She would realize the truth, just as had Han Solo... Again, his grip tightened. Skywalker could not save them, not in such a short time. Kylo Ren had called his for his knights, and soon they would be united to face Skywalker. They would be victorious. The Darkness was all consuming, and the last Jedi would not be spared from their rage.

With the thought of the Jedi Master, his thoughts trailed the now-familiar-paths to the scavenger girl. She must have found Skywalker by now, maybe even started training with him. The metal squalled under the pressure of his grip as he recalled her, strained and sweaty, struggling under his weight. There had been darkness in her; he had sensed it. Yet, she had declined his offer to train her.

The scar she had marked him with burned and fueled his anger. He tasted the blood in his mouth, realizing that in his rage he had bitten his tongue. Forcing himself to release his grip, Kylo Ren turned and continued walking towards the bridge, leaving behind him a mangled metal handrailing.

Kylo Ren would not forget that she had refused him. He would have his retribution, and she would pay for what she had done.


End file.
